


Brasserie le 33

by Luluw5



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Past Hanamaki Takahiro/Oikawa Tooru, Slice of Life, Waiter!Matsukawa, snark overload
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22024240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luluw5/pseuds/Luluw5
Summary: Mattsun's life had been dragging, and work was no escape. A strange pair of customers who show up one night may be just the refresher he needs.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro & Oikawa Tooru, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime & Matsukawa Issei
Comments: 1
Kudos: 72
Collections: My favorite haikyuu fics





	Brasserie le 33

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set in an actual restaurant in Cannes that I visited with my cousin.

If he heard one more table ask for dessert to go, Matsukawa would quit on the spot. The struggle got realer every single time he had to shlep the half-eaten sweets back to the kitchen, pack them neatly into marine-life-choking plastic containers, then trot them back out to the unmindful customers with a cheesy smile on his face. Don’t get him wrong, there was nothing unforgivable about the action on its own. Mattsun could kill for a styrofoam container of lava cake and a front row seat to his 42” television screen, but every time a table for two shared *that* look and confided that they were going to be ‘naughty,’ well, the waiter had to fight to keep his pleasantly neutral expression intact.

Mattsun could usually keep a pretty good sense of humor about these kinds of things, just let it go with a wink or a well-timed nod, but recently he’d been picking up more and more shifts to cover his bills, and the stress was wearing on him. The next time a couple asked him for a box, a well dressed pair of 20 something-year-olds who had asked to be seated by the window, he bared his teeth into something resembling a smile and dawdled by the maitre-d’ for a good five minutes. Eventually his supervisor noticed and gave him a look that made Mattsun’s hair stand on end. He slunk through the open-concept restaurant floor, footsteps quiet on the vibrant red carpet that made patrons feel like celebrities, at least according to the manager. Past the compact glass tables sided by wicker-backed chairs, up to the mahogany bar where Mattsun could grab a nightcap on the house after his shift, back into the kitchen to box another dessert.

Mattsun unfortunately couldn’t keep the weary expression off his face when he came back with the couple’s food. It was pushing on 9, and the restaurant didn’t show any sign of clearing out. Mattsun hadn’t been jonesing for a tip, so it was a surprise when the couple ended up giving him a decent one after they ask for the check. As thanks he snuck a couple extra breadsticks into their doggy bags, which the woman immediately shoved in her purse. 

Mattsun stepped out the side door for some air. The restaurant had outside seating as well as inside seating, both similar in size, but out here the diners could sit under lit braziers that fought off the worst of the night air’s chill. The outside seating was ringed in planters holding that kind of bush that you saw everywhere but didn’t know the name of. In the daylight, the restaurant could pass for a café, but at night when the heat lamps came on and the streetlights took their turns illuminating the small brasserie, its ambiance became undeniable. 

There was a fair sized crowd tonight; perhaps half the outside tables near the front and two-thirds of the inside tables were full. Towards the side where Mattsun lingered, far more places were open.

He stood in an empty corner and let the cool night air flood his lungs. The dinner rush was just beginning to wane, and in a few short hours Mattsun could be cozying up with a pint of rocky road and a Netflix comedy special. Ah, bliss. 

“Excuse me, waiter?” One of the tables by the corner beckoned him over. Seated there were two young men, maybe his age, maybe a bit younger. Even from across the patio, Mattsun could tell that the guy calling him over was gorgeous. He grabbed a couple of menus and walked over, managing a half-assed smile as he came to stand beside them. 

“I hope you two are having a nice evening. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes-” Up close Mattsun could see this guy could totally have been a model. Soft chestnut curls and big brown eyes. He smiled as Mattsun handed out the menus. “-my friend had a question about the food.” Mattsun belatedly turned to look at the other patron. He was good looking as well, shorter hair that may have been a light brown, angular features, well-groomed eyebrows over, huh, blue eyeliner. Mattsun didn’t see that everyday.

“Yeah, so,” the man said in a flat voice, “I was just wondering, if the food here was a person which would be the most fuckable?”

“I-” Mattsun felt something in his brain short-circuit, just a bit. “-excuse me?”

“It’s his way of asking what dish you prefer,” the model chimed in, easy-going smile still in place, as though that hadn’t been the most outrageous statement Mattsun had heard all night.

“Right…probably the éclair. I’m more partial to sweets. If you’re looking for something to start our steak tartare is popular.”

“Éclair, huh?” The model said, lips pursed thoughtfully. “I’m more of a cannoli guy myself.”

“Oikawa, now is not the time to enlighten us about your fantasy to fuck a cannoli,” the brunet said dryly. The model, Oikawa, stared, aghast, before letting out one of the most pathetic, and frankly impressive, whining sounds Mattsun had ever heard a grown man emit.

“Makki! You can’t be so mean to me, not when we have such a cute waiter.” Mattsun flushed and instinctively tried to hide his face behind the menus. Oikawa’s companion seemed otherwise nonplussed.

“You didn’t deny it.”

“So-” Mattsun’s face still felt warm, but he was standing right under one of the braziers “-I can go get your server so you can order drinks.”

“Well then, what off the menu would you fuck?” They were ignoring him. 

The brunet took a long moment to look his waiter up and down before replying. “A tall drink of water.”

"I will be right back," Mattsun excused himself. He was feeling a little helpless, like a raft adrift in their stream of constant, good-natured bickering. But, strangely, Mattsun realized as he pushed back into the restaurant, he didn't feel tired anymore. These two were fucking weird, but also refreshing. He felt some of the stress of the past few weeks ease off his shoulders, and wondered if he should ask Iwaizumi to switch sections with him, just because. 

* * *

“Say, Makki,” Oikawa leaned over their table with a sly grin, “you have the hots for our waiter, dontcha?”

Makki bit a chunk out of a complimentary bread roll. It was true. He was lucky Oikawa had been so insistent on sitting outside if it meant being serviced by this waiter tonight. He was tall, dark, handsome, and the first thing that Makki had thought to ask him had been overtly sexual. “As usual, nothing gets by you.”

“He’s totally into me though,” Oikawa said thoughtfully. He was staring at the flower in the center of the table, but his mind was elsewhere, Makki could tell.

Once again, nothing got by him, Makki thought ruefully as he chewed his bread. Their waiter had barely looked at him at all just then, not to mention that timely blush. Makki sighed. He had gotten used to Oikawa stealing the attention of his potential suitors, before, during, and after their own relationship. He did just fine, regardless. No worries there. 

“Still,” Oikawa went on, “you’re an eligible bachelor now-”

“So are you. As of two weeks ago.”

“-and as your dear friend and former lover, Makki I promise to get you laid!” Oikawa pledged, hand over his heart. Makki beaned him in the face with a dinner roll.

“Not the face! Do you know how long this contour took?”

“Please don’t make a nuisance of yourself.”

“I don’t plan to,” Oikawa said, looking cross as he brushed bread crumbs off his shirt. “Just keep on being your wonderful self. I’ll find a way to get his attention on you.”

Makki leaned forward. “So instead you’re making a spectacle of me?”

“I have to help somehow. Desperation doesn’t look good on you, Makki.”

“Too true, Tooru. I don’t look good in any of your hand-me-downs.”

Oikawa raised a hand to flag down their waiter once more. The dark-haired man was speaking to another waiter just inside the restaurant. He turned and noticed the gesture, and gave a slight nod. 

“You need to be less rude. After all, what will Waiter think?” Oikawa’s eyes gleamed in the light of the brazier. In all honesty, Makki had no idea. He would either be the waiter’s type or he wouldn’t, so all he ought to do was be himself. Makki glanced into the restaurant. He always appreciated a man in uniform. He kept his eyes trained on the waiter until he could read his nametag. _Matsukawa_. If he played his cards right, Makki might learn a bit more about Matsukawa before the night ran out.

* * *

“Hey, Iwaizumi, switch sections with me.” The decision was barely set in his mind before the words came out of his mouth.

“Huh?” Mattsun’s spiky haired co-worker raised a thick eyebrow. “You good?”

“Yeah, just need a change of scenery,” Mattsun replied. Iwaizumi looked at his coworker, noted the confusion tingeing his features, then looked past him at the couple in his nearly empty section. He shrugged.

“Sure. I don't mind the extra tips.” And that was that.

As he walked back over, it occurred to Mattsun that his pair of diners may be a couple. They had been whispering close among themselves while he was away. There definitely was intimacy there, or at the very least chemistry. And they had come to a nice restaurant in nice clothes. And makeup. Mattsun remembered seeing foundation creasing in the corners of Oikawa’s eyes when he smiled, and of course the daring blue eyeliner Makki had been sporting. 

"Ah, my name is Matsukawa and I will be serving you this evening. Can I get you started with any drinks?" The two diners sat back in their respective seats and turned their attention to Mattsun. A gentle breeze blew through Oikawa's coiffed hair, though it barely disturbed Makki's. It felt nice on the back of Mattsun's neck. Being so tall meant he was pretty close to the heat lamps, which was a sub-optimum position to be in.

"I'll have a diet coke, and a lemonade for Hanamaki. Make it sour," Oikawa ordered cheerfully. Makki frowned at him from across the table.

"I don't like sour lemonade," he said, looking back at Mattsun. The waiter smiled a bit and nodded, taking it down on his pad.

"Well, maybe Matsukawa can give you a little sugar," Oikawa quipped, earning a groan from his dinner mate and his waiter. "What?"

"I'm sorry, he's terrible."

"So I see," Mattsun said. He kept his expression neutral, but inside he was grinning. These guys were kind of fun. "How long have you two been together?"

"Someone is perceptive," Makki remarked, admiration coloring his tone. "We actually just broke up. We hate each other now."

"Makki here is an eligible bachelor," Oikawa butted in. " _Very_ eligible. And it was _amicable_. We're basically best friends."

"Do you ever shut up?" Makki asked.

"Not on my own, no," Oikawa replied, winking at Mattsun.

They were at it again. They sure did seem like an old married couple, but Mattsun couldn't deny he was happy to hear they weren't together officially. "Well, I'll be back with your drinks then." Better to leave them in their own world for now. Mattsun headed in, oblivious to the two pairs of eyes glued to his back.

Once Matsukawa was a safe distance away, Makki turned back to Oikawa. "You're shit at this."

"You wound me," Oikawa replied, but he looked anything but hurt. Makki recognized that calculating look, made ever more ominous in the firelight. 

"What are you thinking?" Makki leaned back in his chair, subconsciously trying to distance himself from Oikawa. The wicker creaked as he put his weight on it, and the brazier made the top of his head feel uncomfortably warm.

"I think we should switch seats."

"What? Why?"

"Because shadows make your eyes look beady-" Oikawa dodged the dinner roll this time. "-and you'll get sweaty sitting right next to the fire. I'm right. Just switch with me."

Makki stood reluctantly and allowed Oikawa to offer him his chair. He was usually good at noticing these things, at least as good as Oikawa, but he wasn't as used to turning his powers of observation on himself. There was a noticeable difference in temperature across the table. Makki felt the cool air dry the sweat he hadn't realized was on his brow. When Oikawa sat down, Makki saw that, silhouetted against the firelight, his friend did look a bit more menacing than usual.

"You're on point tonight, you know that?" 

"Save the flattery for Waiter," Oikawa grinned. "It'll be better spent there."

"We know his name now," Makki pointed out.

"And you should use it," Oikawa said brightly. "I bet he likes hearing his name."

* * *

"Are you guys ready to order yet?" Mattsun asked as he set the pair's drinks on the table. He had been a bit confused to come out and see that they had switched seats while he was gone, but decided not to ask after it. He also decided to ignore the feeling that the duo had been talking about him right up until he showed up with their drinks. They had fallen uncharacteristically silent, and the pretty one had something of a conniving grin stamped on his features. The brunet, Hanamaki, he remembered, looked unfalteringly bored. Mattsun schooled his face into a similar expression, and tried to mentally prepare himself.

“So what’s it like being a waiter, taking orders, fetching drinks? Seems kind of demeaning.” Hanamaki ignored his question about ordering and seized control of the conversation.

“Totally,” Mattsun said without inflection.

“Ever want a break?” Makki asked. “I bet you’d look better calling out the orders.”

Oikawa sipped his drink.

"Depends on who's taking them," Mattsun answered smoothly. Both of his diners grinned, pleased that he had begun to play along. Mattsun was generally more professional than this. On the other hand, all work and no play, and all that jazz.

"Oikawa will be having the steak tartare you recommended, and some more of this bread please." Makki tilted the empty bread bowl towards him. "He ate it all."

Mattsun looked at the two dinner rolls on the ground behind Hanamaki and then at the mess of crumbs on the table. 

"Of course. Anything else?"

"Alcohol." Mattsun and Makki shot a look at Oikawa. "Whatever the waiter recommends. I'm curious to know your taste." He settled his chin on his hands and smiled up at Mattsun. 

"And I'll have the salmon for my main, Matsukawa," Makki said quickly, before Mattsun could get a word in, saving him from having to think of a comeback to that double-entendre. It was thrilling flirting with someone so good-looking. Mattsun was feeling better about himself already. 

“Makki why do you always get the salmon?” Oikawa threw his hands up in exasperation. “Live a little! Let some variety into your life.”

“Salmon is for desire,” he answered simply, the barest hint of a smile on his face.

All at once Mattsun’s thoughts were invaded by that one fucking picture of the dude making out with a fully grown fish, and he ended up biting his knuckle to keep his laughter from spilling out. Even so, his shoulders were shaking so much he had to excuse himself inside.

"I'll be right back," he murmured, tucking their menus under his arm. He hustled back inside and immediately sought out Iwaizumi who was collecting menus from a small family who had just ordered. Mattsun realized that he was outnumbered in this game. He needed someone on his team.

"Pardon me," Mattsun said quickly as he slid up to the table, "I need to borrow my co-worker. We'll have someone else fetch your order right away."

"What-" Iwaizumi began as Mattsun hauled him away toward the bar "-are you doing? Have you lost it?"

"Not remotely," Mattsun replied, relieving Iwaizumi of his note pad and handing it as well as his own off to the first waiter he saw heading towards the kitchen. "I just need some advice."

Iwaizumi pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned again the bar. "This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the table outside, would it?" He asked, already knowing the answer. Mattsun waited patiently for Iwaizumi to come around. "Fine-" that was quicker than normal "-what is it?"

"They asked me to recommend drinks."

"So what? You have decent taste."

"They're testing me." Iwaizumi stared at him blankly. "No, really. It's some sort of game." Mattsun grinned. "I'm actually having fun."

"Alright," Iwaizumi said slowly. "So, to recap, you've lost it."

"No, you're not listening." Mattsun ran his hand through his thick hair and pursed his lips, trying to find a way to explain this to a rational person. Slowly, it dawned on him that this may not be something that could be explained to a rational person. Iwaizumi folded his arms and huffed out a sigh.

Iwaizumi spoke, not unkindly, "I know you've been having a bit of a hard time lately, and I'm glad that you're finding something to occupy yourself with. They aren't the kinds of people who are going to come bitching to management if you start slacking off?" 

"Almost definitely not."

"Fine," he rubbed his face. "What have they ordered so far?"

"Uh," Mattsun thought for a second, grateful for his exceptional memory in the absence of his notepad. "Extra bread, salmon, steak tartare, sweetened lemonade, and a diet coke."

Iwaizumi looked thoughtful for a minute. He turned away from Mattsun, and leaned over the bar, getting the server's attention. "Lime margarita and a sidecar."

Mattsun felt a fondness in his heart that only emerged when a friend came through to help him with his schemes. "Make the second one a white lady," Mattsun amended, thinking of the short-haired brunet, "he likes sweets."

"Well, that makes two of you," Iwaizumi remarked, watching Mattsun out of the corner of his eye. His friend and coworker had an odd expression on his face, pensive, but excited, like he was on the verge of solving an especially challenging math problem. Iwaizumi sighed. He had never really enjoyed math. The payoff never outweighed the frustration he felt after getting stuck on something. "Here." Iwaizumi handed Mattsun his tray, and loaded the drinks on. "Try not to say anything stupid."

"I am definitely going to say something stupid," Mattsun said solemnly, "count on it." Iwaizumi shook his head and resolved to stay out of it. At least until Mattsun needed him again.

"Oi, one more thing," damn his meddling heart, " Don't bring those drinks out until their food is ready."

Mattsun shot him a questioning look. "Any particular reason."

Iwaizumi pointed onto the floor where he had three tables waiting for food. "'Cuz you need to cover my tables while I hit the head."

* * *

  
  


Makki listened to the steady drumming of Oikawa's slender fingers on the glass tabletop. His friend was impatient. And admittedly, so was he. Drink service didn't take over 20 minutes where he was from. He resolved to watching the windows silently, catching glimpses of Matsukawa as he covered other tables. Makki had thought they were the only patrons in his section, but maybe he had just been paying them special attention. That thought did bring a small smile to his face. Regardless, as they waited the restaurant began to empty, the outside diners being the first to go. Makki understood; now that he was away from the heat lamp, the chilly night air was raising goosebumps on his skin. He reached behind him and grabbed Oikawa's fur-lined coat which was still on the back of his chair, and pulled it over his shoulders.

"Salmon is for desire?" Oikawa asked for the third time in 20 minutes.

"I'm telling you, it's a really good meme."

"Then why haven't I heard of it?" Oikawa demanded, lifting a perfectly shaped brow.

"Probably because you're stuck in the alien-fucker corner of the internet with all the other space freaks."

"I resent that."

"You _represent_ that," Makki shot back with a vicious grin. 

"You know, when you think about it, it's pretty arrogant to assume we're the only life in the universe." Oikawa stuck his nose in the air and sniffed haughtily.

Makki huffed a breath and was surprised when he could see it. "I don't need to be called arrogant by you, thanks." He shivered, drawing the coat in tighter. He wished fervently that their food would arrive.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than the door to their section opened. Matsukawa entered, holding a folding table in one hand while he balanced a tray full of food and drinks over his shoulder with the other. He set up next to their table, an apologetic smile on his face.

"Sorry about the wait. We're short staffed tonight, so I had to cover a few tables inside. We're including extra extra bread for the trouble.

"Yay, more free bread," Oikawa grumbled. Makki kicked him under the table. He thought he may have seen the waiter's eye twitch when Oikawa fixed him with an unsatisfied look, but he also may have imagined it. 

Mattsun placed their respective meals in front of them and introduced them to their drinks. "Oikawa, I got a lime margarita for you, and Hanamaki, a white lady. Some describe it as overwhelmingly sweet."

Makki smiled at that. "Thank you. And I'm so glad you made Oikawa a drink as fruity as he is."

Oikawa stuck a petulant tongue out at his dining partner. "Don't be jealous 'cuz mine tastes so much better."

"I'm glad it's to your liking. Is there anything else I can get you?"

Makki reached over the table with his fork and knife while Oikawa asked after a dessert menu. The disk of ground beef topped with an egg yolk was just begging to be sculpted into a masterpiece. It's never the wrong time to play with your food, he thought. One should enjoy it to its utmost after all.

The exchange between Oikawa and Matsukawa broke off abruptly as they both simultaneously noticed Makki's burst of inspiration.

“Makki no!” Oikawa wailed. “You can’t just turn my food into a dick! That’s obscene!”

“This is my obligation as your friend,” He said. Mattsun looked on in fascination, both impressed and unnerved by the attention to detail. The area touching the egg yolk with spared until the last, so that Hanamaki could burst the yellow glob with his knife, a colorful spray across the pristine plate. Mattsun kinda wanted to take a picture, but he didn't have his phone.

"I have made art," Makki declared, pushing the plate back to Oikawa's side of the table. Oikawa responded by sulking.

"How am I supposed to eat this now?" He asked. Mattsun somehow knew what Makki would say before the words left his mouth.

"What's wrong? You never had an issue eating my dick before." He grinned wide at Oikawa who sighed dramatically and tore off a chunk of break to wipe up the egg yolk. 

"You're no longer on the menu," Oikawa declared before purposely letting his eyes roam over to Matsukawa. He smiled up at the waiter and popped the bread in his mouth. Mattsun's fixated on Oikawa's lips. He didn't notice Hanamaki glaring daggers at his ex from the other side of the table.

* * *

  
  


"Ah, that was a fun dinner, wouldn't you say?" Oikawa asked as he stretched his arms above his head. The two of them made their way down the still brightly lit streets of Cannes. The shops they passed by were closed, in spite of the lights, and at the late hour Makki and Oikawa were virtually alone on what is usually a very busy street.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Makki sighed. He did have fun, admittedly. Brasserie le 33 had a nice atmosphere that made him feel at ease, and the food was top notch. The company, however....

"Now, Makki," Oikawa cast a glance over his shoulders, eyelids heavy, "I know you must be thinking, 'oh no, my beautiful, immaculate ex went and gave his number to the handsome waiter I want to climb like a tree.'"

"You are the only person ridiculous enough to think such a thing."

"But fear not!" Oikawa spread his arms wide. It was then that Makki noticed that his jacket- no, _Makki's jacket-_ was conspicuously missing. Makki drew Oikawa's fir-lined coat tighter around him. "I have concocted a clever ruse."

"You fucking left my favorite coat behind for a ruse?"

"Not just any ruse-" Oikawa spun around and pinned Makki with a finger "-a clever ruse that will end with you getting Waiter's number." He drew his hand back and flashed a victory sign.

"His name is Matsukawa," Makki mentioned, suddenly exhausted. "And if you think I'm turning around and getting his number, you've got another thing coming."

"Not tonight-" Oikawa linked his arm through Makki's and walked close. Makki could feel him tremble slightly from the cold. "-tomorrow. No need to interrupt your beauty sleep. As long as you go in the morning."

"You figured out his schedule?" Makki murmured, begrudgingly impressed. In spite of his intentions, Makki hadn't been able to get to know Matsukawa in any way that mattered. But Oikawa's words dredged up a glimmer of hope that he may still have the chance.

"He has some helpful -and attractive- coworkers, who may happen to go to the same gym as me," Oikawa admitted. "But remember, I am the best wingman."

"Yeah, well we shall see," Makki said, turning up his collar against the wind. But still, a small smile found its way onto his face as he thought about what he should say tomorrow.

* * *

Morning shifts were the worst. The restaurant didn't do breakfast service, so coming in at eleven am to set up the tables and prep the dining ware wasn't especially hard on his sleep schedule, but last night had taken a turn for the shitty and no amount of ice cream and Kevin Hart would be able to fix it. Mornings after he got shot down were the absolute worst. Somewhere between the main course and dessert, Mattsun had lost the model's interest. He didn't know what had happened, where he had misstepped, but something had simply turned him off of Mattsun. The number that had been written on their receipt had unfairly gotten his hopes up as he had set out to clear their table, but he immediately noticed that it was the number for rejection hotline. Mattsun had been a piece-of-shit middle schooler. He knew that fucking number anywhere. The second thing Mattsun had noticed was the blue, flower emblazoned jacket that had been left on the back of the model's seat. Irritation had flared in his chest as he practically threw it in the lost and found.

Now, he was stuck waiting around for the restaurant to open, half expecting that shitty model to show up and claim his coat, maybe giving a half-assed excuse as to why he had blown Mattsun off, or maybe he wouldn't say a damn thing. Mattsun hoped for the latter. He was mentally and physically exhausted, and felt like he wanted to sleep for a week. Whatever phantom energy had kept him going last night had long since worn off. He honestly wasn't sure he would make it through this shift.

The door opened and the maitre-d' greeted the first customer of the day. Mattsun's restless gaze turned toward the sound. His eyebrows hit the ceiling before the rest of his body processed the sight. It was the brunet, Hanamaki; Mattsun's tired brain was able to supply a name. So Oikawa hadn't even deigned to come fetch his things himself. Well, fine then. Mattsun could stop wasting energy thinking about him.

The maitre-d' walked to the back room and returned with the blue coat, handing it to Hanamaki. To Mattsun's surprise, he didn't leave. Makki's searching gaze canvassed the empty restaurant and came to rest on Mattsun at the bar. He walked over, one hand in the elastic of his pants, the other carelessly holding the coat. He didn't say a word until he sat down.

"Shirley Temple?" He asked. Mattsun nodded and stepped behind the bar to begin to prepare it. He went slowly to be sure he didn't make any mistakes in his tired state. He also took the time to appreciate this near-stranger in the clear, midday light.

He still had last night’s makeup on, Mattsun noted, and the pale blue shadows hiding under his lower lashes brought out the bright flecks in his eyes. It was completely unfair that someone could look that good in slept-in clothes and smudged makeup, yet there he was, teal halter dipping low at the neckline, eyeliner perfectly staining his lower lids. When he turned, Mattsun could see the shadows of his spine behind the netted panel that ran down the back of his shirt. Between the batik patterned black and white pants, the blue and black striped ankle socks, and the embroidered slip-ons, Mattsun realized he may have spent the night hitting on the wrong guy. 

  
"You look tired," Makki said, folding his hands in front of him. "Did you not sleep well?"

"No worse than usual," Mattsun replied tersely. He dropped a cherry into the pale red drink and handed it over to Makki with a napkin and a straw. "Your friend is a piece of work."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Did you call the number?"

Mattsun snorted, then set about cleaning the things he had used to prepared Makki's drink. "Nope. Didn't need to. I recognized it." He said that last bit in response to Makki's questioning look. 

"Seen it a lot?"

"Given and received." He shrugged. "When I was a kid, y'know?"

"So you've given _and_ received," Makki said slowly, taking the straw between his lips. Mattsun got distracted watching him sip his drink, but only for a moment.

"Uh, yeah." He cleared his throat and stepped away form the counter.

“You wouldn’t have had a chance with him anyway,” the alluring brunet said. Was his hair even brown? It was a softer peach color that Mattsun hadn’t seen before. “Oiks is totally hung up on this guy from our gym. Don’t feel too bad about it.”

Mattsun took this in stride, in fact, he was determined not to take it personally. When god closed a door, he opened a window, or something like that. Leaning his arms on the counter so their faces were on the same plane, Mattsun asked, “What about you? Hung up on anyone?”

Makki shrugged and pulled the cherry off its stem. “Don’t know. Could be.” He slowly blinked those long eyelashes, taking full advantage of how the blue below his eyes left Mattsun unguarded to his dark irises. Last night’s makeup had no business looking that good on anybody. 

Mattsun thumbed his upper lip thoughtfully. Hanamaki followed the motion closely.

"You've got some sense of humor," he acknowledged, thumb pushing the corner of his mouth into a grin. Makki's mouth curved up in response.

"Was it the dick jokes?" He popped the cherry in his mouth and chewed.

"And the memes," Mattsun admitted.

"Ah memes," Makki said, looking wistful, "the internet's aphrodisiac. Also happens to be one of my preferred forms of communication."

Mattsun chuckled under his breath. Strangely, he wasn't feeling as tired now. He glanced up and saw Makki watching him. What were the odds that he would strike out twice in 24 hours? Probably, a betting man somewhere was rolling in his grave, but fuck it. Mattsun wanted to chase this feeling.

"I have a treasure trove of memes saved to my computer." Makki leveled an even look at him. Mattsun felt his neck hair stand on end.

"Oh?" 

"And I get off at 4."

"Are you asking me to Meme and Meet up?"

Mattsun laughed loud, the kind of laugh that he felt roll through his entire body. Makki seemed slightly taken aback, but not displeased that his joke had been well-received.

"Yeah, I guess I am," Mattsun agreed. "So, meet me here at 4?"

"Fine," Makki said, "but you better sneak me some of those dinner rolls."

"This isn't the Olive Garden."

"I don't give a damn." Makki laughed, and maybe it was the exhaustion, but Mattsun thought he could get drunk off the sound. "Well, I'll see you at 4." But as he turned to leave, Mattsun reached across the counter and grabbed the hem of his shirt.

"Sorry," he apologized, "I just- let me give you my number. So you can text me if you're early or something."

"I have to warn you," Makki said, pulling out his phone, "texting with me is akin to deciphering hieroglyphics."

"What, do you only text in memes too?" Mattsun asked, meaning it to be a joke. But the dead serious look Makki fixed him with made him begin to reconsider. "Ah, I see..."

"Of course I don't. That would be absurd." Makki handed over his phone, allowing the waiter to input his contact information.

"I'll see you at 4," Mattsun promised, handing the brunet his phone back. Makki nodded, and left without fanfare. Watching him leave the restaurant, Mattsun felt something in his chest that he hadn't felt in a long time. Anticipation. Something to look forward to. All at once, Mattsun was very sure he would be able to make it through the day. It was a good feeling.


End file.
